


And Hide Behind a Mask of Lies

by Scrawlers



Series: With Friends Like These [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Gen, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:21:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scrawlers/pseuds/Scrawlers
Summary: While having coffee with Professor Sycamore, Lysandre receives a call from Alan.





	And Hide Behind a Mask of Lies

**Author's Note:**

> A long time ago, someone on Tumblr asked me what it would have been like if Lysandre and Professor Sycamore were friends in the anime as they are in the games. I answered that it would make Lysandre's actions---which, as far as the anime canon goes, are already abhorrent---unquestionably worse, and this AU/canon divergence series is written to show why. 
> 
> This takes place pre-canon, when Alan is still fourteen, but nearer to fifteen than thirteen (so like, maybe four months shy of his fifteenth birthday).

Café Introversion was not Lysandre’s favorite café. In all honesty, its coffee was far below his standards.

To be truthful, Lysandre’s standards for coffee were higher than most. To be even more truthful, Lysandre’s standards for _everything, period_ were higher than most. He supposed to most ordinary people he would appear high-strung and demanding, and he supposed, too, that such a perception was fair. Those who held visions for better worlds—and those who actually managed to bring those visions to fruition—often _were_ high-strung and demanding. There was nothing wrong with it, in his view. If he didn’t demand things be done a certain way, they would never be done at all. If he didn’t have standards, the world would continue to rot.

But his plans for the future were a separate, grander matter than his taste in coffee. His taste in coffee being what it was, he couldn’t think of a single café in all of Lumiose City that actually met his standards. Perhaps, when his new world was born, he would have a new café built that _did_ meet his standards. Perhaps it would be the very first building constructed in Neo Lumiose. That was a nice thought, but it was one for the future. For now he was in Café Introversion, because while it was not his favorite café and did not meet his standards, it was still _passable_ , and it lived up to its name by usually having smaller crowds of customers inside, making it a better place for personal conversations than more popular cafés, such as Café Soleil. So although Café Introversion was not his favorite, that was where he was, seated across from Professor Augustine Sycamore as the two of them enjoyed an after-dinner coffee conversation.

“The cross-media functionality of the Holo Caster really is remarkable,” Augustine said. He had his elbows on the table, his chin on his linked fingers. Bad table manners, really, but Lysandre supposed others in the world had committed worse sins. “Would you really be able to broadcast a message across all television networks from your Holo Caster?”

“ _I_ would, yes,” Lysandre said, and he couldn’t resist a little smirk at the look of wonder in Augustine’s eyes. “Though it wouldn’t broadcast directly from my personal Holo Caster. The Holo Caster at Fleur-De-Lis Laboratories would be making the actual broadcast, should the time come.” Which it would, but not for a while yet.

“Incredible,” Augustine said, and he laughed lightly. “I imagine that will make advertisements for your future products much easier. You won’t need to pay television stations any money for commercial spots.”

Lysandre smiled thinly. “Yes, I suppose I won’t.”

“All righty, here we are!” Lysandre looked up as the barista who had taken their order earlier stepped up to their table, a mug of coffee—one for Augustine, and one for Lysandre himself—in each hand, and a small plate balanced on her arm. She set the mugs down first, and then lightly plucked the plate from her arm before she set it down on the table between them. “And because you two came in during our after-dinner happy hour, you get a couple biscotti, on the house!”

“Thank you, it’s appreciated,” Lysandre said.

The barista beamed at him before she skipped back around the counter (and really, he had to commend her for being so peppy given her place of employment). Lysandre looked back at Augustine, only to find that Augustine was looking at the plate of biscotti instead, a strange, wistful sort of smile on his face.

“Is something the matter?” Lysandre asked.

“What? Oh, no.” Augustine looked up and flashed Lysandre an attempt at a brighter smile. “I was just . . . thinking.”

“About?” Lysandre asked. Augustine didn’t answer immediately; his eyes fell back to the biscotti, that same look crossing his face again, and Lysandre said dryly, “For someone who has nothing troubling him, you do seem to be having difficulty keeping up with the conversation.”

Augustine started, as if he really had found himself lost in thought once again before Lysandre spoke up, but then he huffed a small, humorless laugh.

“It’s really nothing,” he said. “I was just . . . thinking about Alan.”

“. . . Oh.”

It had been a year and a half since Lysandre had recruited Alan into his service. Lysandre had known of Alan since the boy was a child; due to his friendship with Augustine, it was impossible for him to have not heard stories about the boy that Augustine had brought on as his “assistant,” but was actually raising as his own. Lysandre had never formally met Alan before the boy had set off on his travels, and had it not been for that afternoon in Ambrette Town when he had come upon the boy purely by chance, Lysandre wasn’t sure they ever _would_ have met. As it stood, that fateful encounter in Ambrette Town had been enough to spark his interest, and after enough thought and study Lysandre concluded that Alan would be perfect for his purposes. And so far, he hadn’t once come to regret his decision. Although there had been a couple of instances where Alan had to be reminded of his place, for the most part he was a dedicated, efficient agent. He took directives without complaint and was highly dependable when it came to seeing them through, regardless of the risks involved. He had even learned to control his fidgeting habit, which was nice. Really, Lysandre couldn’t have asked for a better special operative, particularly given that this one had been educated by Augustine Sycamore himself. That, plus Alan’s ready willingness to do anything so long as it meant protecting Augustine, made him perfectly crafted to suit Lysandre’s needs.

Not that Augustine could be allowed to know any of that, of course.

“We used to come here semi-regularly. Alan preferred it, since it was always less crowded than the others,” Augustine said. He was looking at the biscotti again, another wistful smile on his face, though he had picked up the spoon next to his mug to slowly stir his coffee. “He always—well, not _always_ , but he would often get biscotti with his coffee so he could dunk it in and eat it that way. Even if we only came here for coffee, he often couldn’t resist getting a side order of biscotti to go with it.” Augustine laughed a little under his breath, and shook his head. “So having the barista bring a plate over reminded me of him, that’s all. I’m sorry for getting lost in thought like that, and for getting sentimental. It isn’t exactly the most cheerful direction to steer the conversation in, I know.”

“It isn’t a problem,” Lysandre said. He took a sip of his coffee as Augustine did the same, and after a moment he casually asked, “I take it you still haven’t heard from him, then?” Lysandre couldn’t imagine Alan being reckless enough with Augustine’s safety to break his promise and contact him anyway, but it never hurt to make sure.

All traces of a smile, forced or otherwise, fell from Augustine’s face. He set his mug back down on the table, and Lysandre saw his fingers squeeze the ceramic as he looked into the dark liquid in the cup.

“No. Not since the last time he called a . . . a year and a half ago now.” Augustine was quiet for a moment, yet then forced a tight smile as he looked up again. “But I’m sure he’s fine. He’s no doubt busy. He’s young; trainers and teenagers both can get easily swept up in whatever it is they’re doing, doubly so if they’re a teenage trainer. I’m sure he’s all right, even if—even though he hasn’t had a chance to call. He’s strong, and smart. He knows how to take care of himself. He’s distracted, and busy, but . . . I’m sure he’s all right.”

Lysandre smiled. He couldn’t help but feel a little amused at the way Augustine rambled on. “Yes, I’m sure he—”

Lysandre’s Holo Caster, strapped to his wrist as it always was, rang out with a sudden chime. He glanced at the screen as the caller ID flashed, and his heart stuttered for only a moment when he saw the name on the display. Whether it was a coincidence or fate playing a joke on him, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t help but think that the universe had a funny sense of timing, either way.

Across the table, Augustine leaned forward in interest, his eyes darting to Lysandre’s Holo Caster for a moment before he asked, “Is that an incoming call?”

“Yes,” Lysandre said, and he moved his wrist off the table as he stood up. “I should take this. Excuse me.”

“Of course, take your time,” Augustine said, and he smiled a little. “I’ll be here.”

The café was too small, and too empty, for Lysandre to be able to take the call inside without Augustine overhearing. Instead, he slipped through the back entrance to step out into the alleyway between the café and the building next door, and once he was safely in the shade of the two buildings, he accepted the call and said, “Lysandre speaking.”

The hologram screen flickered to life above his wrist, and though the call window was small, it was just big enough to properly show Alan’s face, as well as the snowy backdrop behind him. He was near Snowbelle City, then. Good. That was where he was supposed to be.

“Director,” Alan said, and Lysandre smirked a little as Alan stood up a bit straighter, fixing his posture from what it had been when Lysandre first accepted the call. “I’ve retrieved the Mega Stone at the site you indicated.”

“Good work,” Lysandre said, “but I was expecting your report this morning at the latest. What happened?”

Alan’s eyes widened before he quickly looked away, fumbling through an excuse he clearly hadn’t bothered preparing before the call. “I—I’m sorry. I was—it took me a bit of time to make it to the Mega Stone site.”

“Clearly,” Lysandre said. “Why?”

“I was—” Alan broke off mid-sentence as his voice cracked over a small cough, and he swallowed hard before he said, “I stopped overnight in Snowbelle City, and . . . that held me up. I’m sorry.” Another coughing fit, stronger than before, broke the end of Alan’s words, and this time a large orange snout dipped into view of the Holo Caster and bumped the back of Alan’s head, crooning. As if on autopilot, Alan reached back to stroke his charizard, patting it comfortingly as he lightly nudged it back out of view.

Lysandre’s eyes narrowed. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Alan said quickly, and as his charizard nudged him again, making a more insistent sound this time, Alan softly shushed it before he looked back at the Holo Caster once more. “Everything is fine. Should I take the Mega Stone back to Fleur-De-Lis Laboratories?”

Lysandre had thought, initially, that the Holo Caster was producing unwanted audio feedback due to the fact that both he and Alan were standing outside. But now that he paid closer attention, he could see that Alan’s cheeks were a little too flushed even allowing for the cold, that his eyes were a bit brighter than usual. His voice was raspy, something his coughing wasn’t helping, and he sniffed every few seconds. He was ill. No doubt that was why his charizard was being a nuisance; Alan had a habit of treating it as an equal rather than a pokémon under his command, and as such it had a tendency to do whatever it wanted off the battlefield, perhaps doubly so if it sensed any sort of weakness in Alan.

But whether or not Alan had a little cold, and whether or not his charizard knew how to behave, he was clearly well enough to function, and that was good enough for Lysandre. The charizard could be sorted out with a reminder in obedience later; for now, Alan had a job to do, and Lysandre had coffee cooling on a table inside the café.

“No,” Lysandre said. “I have another task for you in the area. Standby for now. I’ll contact you with the coordinates later this evening.”

Alan nodded. “Yes, sir.”

Satisfied with that answer (and with the fact that Alan’s charizard hadn’t seen fit to interrupt again), Lysandre ended the call. He could have given Alan the coordinates right then; he could access the data from his Holo Caster and forward it on to Alan’s in under five seconds. But Alan had delayed his report by staying overnight in Snowbelle City, and had—regardless of whether or not he had intended to—chosen to deliver his report at the worst possible moment. That being the case, Lysandre felt it only fitting to make him wait a couple extra hours for the coordinates of the next Mega Stone.

Augustine was still waiting at the table when Lysandre re-entered the café, just as he had said he would be, and he had apparently seen fit to eat one of the biscotti while Lysandre was talking to Alan. It was rude to eat while someone was away from the table, but then, others had committed worse sins.

“I apologize for the delay,” Lysandre said as he took his seat.

“I don’t mind,” Augustine said, and he smiled a little. “Was it an important call?”

Their eyes met. Augustine was looking at him with genuine curiosity, seemingly more relaxed and a little more upbeat than he had been just before Lysandre’s Holo Caster had chimed. Lysandre considered Augustine for just a moment before he returned the smile.

“Not particularly,” he said.


End file.
